


Ass-Over-Tits

by quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Angels (Supernatural), Bibliophile Castiel, Candy Shop AU, Cas owns a flower shop, Cute Gabriel, Everyone is adorable, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Gabe owns a candy shop, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Castiel, Pining Dean, Pining Gabriel, Pining Sam, Sam and Dean own a tattoo parlor, Schmoop, Tattoo Shop AU, The Author Regrets Nothing, enjoy, flower shop au, love y'all, lowkey bad Star Wars puns, schmoop and fluff, slight angst, very very slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas
Summary: The Brothers Winchester Tattoo Parlor does pretty well for itself. It is by far the best tattoo parlor in town, and Sam and Dean are dedicated.Then the joint flower and candy shop opens up across the street and well... isn't it polite to say hello to your new neighbors? Especially if said neighbors are hot?orIn which Gabriel is a significantly annoying but equally adorable candy vendor, Sam is in touch with his feelings, Castiel is a major Bibliophile, and Dean is falling ass-over-tits for the trench coat-wearing cornflower blue-eyed sex hair-sporting owner of the flower shop across the street.





	Ass-Over-Tits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrielotp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrielotp/gifts).

> I'M SORRY FOR NOT DOING PROMPTS! I'M SO SORRY!
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean and Sam were pretty damn good at their jobs. They took the time to do it right so nothing bad ever really happened in their shop.

Tattooine was the best, most frequented, and most popular tattoo parlor in Lawrence, if the boys did say so themselves (and they did).

(Sam lost a bet. On top of having to drink the most repulsive alcohol he’d ever put into his body and do everything in his power to get a straight guy’s number, he’d also had to let Dean choose the name of their shop, and Dean chose a fucking Star Wars pun. For all the shit he gave his brother for being a nerd, let no one ever deny that Dean himself was a huge geek.)

((The flip side was that the next night, when Dean lost a game of poker, he had to fork over his twenty bucks _and_ let Sam give the parlor an alternate name: The Brothers Winchester Tattoo Parlor. Dean told him he had no imagination, and Sam told him to shut the fuck up, and Dean called him a bitch, and he called Dean a jerk, and all was right with the world.))

Today the parlor was closed. They’d raked in a lot of business for several months on end and running a tattoo parlor just the two of them was extremely difficult work. They had earned this break.

So they sat out in front of their shop, holding beers and watching cars drive by. Down the street, on the other side, there was a huge racket going on. “God, the hell is going on over there?” Dean huffed, lifting his voice just slightly in case it was possible for whoever was in charge _five hundred yards away_ in the middle of _a bunch of moving trucks and a crane_ to hear them. He sounded extremely annoyed, a little pissed off, and utterly put out. “It’s been going on all fucking day!”

Sam lowered his bottle from his lips, opting instead to point the neck of it at the huge sign reading _Lollipops & Roses _that was being slowly hoisted up to hang suspended above the windows. “There’s a new store going up. Haven’t you noticed all the advertising?”

“No,” Dean replied, this time sounding more intrigued than irritated. “No I have not.”

Workers were carrying boxes from the huge U-HAUL trucks to the front door of the shop. There were two men, however, who weren’t wearing moving-worker outfits. One was standing up against the wall, directing different people to different places apparently based on the content of their boxes and one was holding open the door to the shop and telling each person where to put each box. Sam nudged his brother and jerked his chin in their direction.

“Check it out. That’s not official safety orange.”

Dean glanced at him with a vaguely impressed but also vaguely disapproving expression and responded in kind. “You are so disappointing, on so many levels.”

Sam grinned, and then the one by the wall turned and hOLY SHIT THAT JAWLINE. He was kinda blondish, probably quite a bit shorter than Sam himself, and he was holding what looked like a bright red lollipop in his hand. “Damn,” Sam muttered, not taking his eyes off the gorgeous specimen. “I guess we’re gonna have to go visit our new neighbors, huh?”

Dean was already out of his chair and on his way across the street; when Sam said that, he turned around, walking backward to tell his baby brother off. “You shut your cakehole. That one’s mine.”

Hey, Dean didn’t originally have any intention to stake his claim on these newcomers, but misunderstandings happen and it was a very easy mistake for him to make to think his brother had eyes for that blue-eyed sex machine in the doorway.

Sam jumped up to follow him. “I didn’t think you were into blonds, really.”

“Blonds? What?” Dean spluttered, and then his eyes flicked to the side where the golden-haired one was standing and something clicked in his brain. “Oh, no. You can have him. But _him-_” he lifted one finger off his beer to point at the dark-haired one. “He looks like something I want to eat.”

“You always were a thirsty bitch,” Sam muttered under his breath, then dodged the swing his brother took at him and picked up his pace to jog over to Mr. Candy Shop.

“Hey,” he greeted.

“Holy _shit_,” was the response.

“Agreed,” Sam blurted out before he could stop himself, then barreled on. “I’m Sam. I co-own the tattoo parlor across the street with my brother. Uh… do you need any help over here?”

Blondie took another long, cool look at him, then turned toward the people he was paying to move his shit and started waving his arms. “Everyone go home!” he shouted. “We now have one very large and capable Sasquatch on the premises who has offered to take care of the rest!”

He turned to grin at Sam, who added, “and my brother the not-bodybuilder.” He pointed out where Dean was, talking to the pale one with the sex hair and the trench coat.

“Ah. So he just looks like that naturally?”

“No. He clocks in like 20 hours a week at the gym doing weight training. I don’t know how he has time to sleep with that kind of schedule on top of his 40-hour work week.”

The other guy laughed, and his eyes were fucking _gold_. Jesus Christ on a fucking tricycle Sam was about to have an aneurysm.

“I don’t know your name,” he suddenly said.

“Gabriel.” Gabriel stuck out his hand and Sam shook it. “If you need any… I don’t know, high fructose corn syrup, you know where to go. And my brother Cassie sells flowers for that _special someone_ or… whatever you might need flowers for.”

Sam couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. “Great. So about that moving you needed me to do…”

“Right through here,” Gabriel replied, leading Sam toward the back of the only truck that was still open.

#~+~#

“You always were a thirsty bitch,” Sam told him, and Dean wound up to swing an elbow at him purely because he knew that was the reaction his kid brother wanted. The moose dodged it (predictably) and maneuvered his way around Dean to sprint over to the candy shop guy. Dean smirked at him for a second before he made his way over to Mr. Sex Hair.

“Hi there,” he greeted in his gravelliest, huskiest, sexiest voice.

“Hello,” the dude replied casually and Dean almost swooned (he would never admit that, _never_. He wasn’t a fucking chick, thank you very much). This guy’s voice was even lower naturally than Dean’s was when he consciously lowered it.

“I-I’m Dean,” he choked out, his voice cracking a little. “My little brother Sammy and I own Tattooine, that tattoo place across the street, you know? We just wanted to know if we could help out.”

From their left, down the sidewalk a ways, the short blond Sam had been staring at started screaming. “Everyone go home! We now have one very large and capable Sasquatch on the premises who has offered to take care of the rest!”

Dean snickered at the very accurate description of the boy he’d basically raised.

“That’s my brother, Gabriel,” Trench Coat told Dean.

“And you are?” Dean prompted.

“Castiel,” he answered, holding out his hand. At Dean’s look, he made a little conceding motion with his head. “Yes, I know it’s an odd name. My father was… shall we say eccentric.”

“Mother?”

“Not around,” Castiel answered. “I was adopted. In fact, all of my siblings were. Our father was single, but he wanted children, so he kept adopting kids until he had more than he knew what to do with.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Five. The eldest, eight years older than myself, is Michael, then five years older than me is my brother Luke – I don’t think you want to know what Luke is short for – and then Gabriel, who’s three years older than me, then me, then my sister Annael, whom we call Anna, and then Uriel.”

Dean chewed on that for a second, then smiled mischievously. “No, you’re wrong. I’m practically burning up with the curiosity. What is Luke short for?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “If you really wish to know.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Luke is short for Lucifer.”

“_Lucifer_?” Dean spat. “You’re kidding me!”

“I am not ‘kidding you’, Dean. Our father named us all after angels and Biblical figures.”

Dean smirked widely. “That is one of the best things I’ve heard all fucking year.”

“Is it really?” Castiel murmured. “That’s funny.”

“Mkay, Cas – can I call you Cas?”

Cas nodded. “It is far better than all of my other nicknames.”

“Great. So, Cas… you’re the flower shop owner?”

Cas nodded again. “Gabe does the candy and I do the flowers.”

“That sounds cool, what do you-” he was cut off by Sam, who was walking toward them, carrying a large cardboard box labeled, **VASES **in neat sharpie capital letters.

“Dean, we offered to help, so we’re helping. Go grab a box. Hi, I’m Sam. Where do you want me to put this?” The last was directed at Cas.

“My name is Castiel, although your brother has elected to call me Cas, and as I find that an acceptable nickname, I suppose it would be alright if you referred to me as such as well. Put it down right there.” He pointed at a blank spot on the floor that looked exactly like all the other blank spots on the floor.

Dean stared at them in confusion for a long second before he sighed, shrugged, and went to grab a box.

Two hours of rigorous manual labor later, Sam and Dean collapsed back into the shitty plastic lawn chairs they’d set on their front stoop when the evening began. They each grabbed a new beer out of the cooler, popped them open and took a swig in unison.

After he swallowed, Sam smacked his lips together and announced, “we’re going back there again. Soon.”

Dean grunted his agreement.

#~+~#

“Welcome to Lollipops and Roses, how can I help you- Sam!” the owner greeted as the taller man entered the shop.

“Hey, Cas. Gabe off today?”

“Yes, unfortunately he’s sick.”

(This was nothing Sam didn’t know; he had inferred as much when Cas opened the shop that morning without his brother.)

((He wasn’t a stalker. He wasn’t.))

(((That was the purpose of his visit that day – Gabriel being sick, not him not being a stalker.)))

“Could I get a little flower-like arrangement of chocolates and lollipops? Cherry and blue raspberry, please.”

“Of course, Sam. How is your brother?”

Dean hadn't come with Sam to the shop.

"He's doing alright. He was just... swamped with work today, or he woulda come with me," Sam lied.

Dean hadn’t come with Sam to the shop because he was terrified he’d embarrass himself like he was convinced he had the last time he saw Cas, two weeks ago. Cas had assured Sam that Dean had not embarrassed himself during one of the four times they’d met for coffee since the Winchester brothers had helped the Novaks move in. However, Dean was still paralyzed with fear that Cas didn’t like him.

(It wasn’t like Dean to be so worried about someone liking him. Usually he just flirted with them, fucked them, and wasn’t there when they woke up. That was how Sam knew Dean was already well on his way toward falling in love with Cas.)

Cas rung up his purchase. “That will be seven dollars and fifteen cents. Cash or credit?”

“Plastic,” Sam replied, handing over the card. Cas swiped it, then handed it back to him along with the candy.

“Actually… could you keep that? Maybe give it to Gabriel for me?” Sam was staring at the counter, a flush creeping up his neck. Cas was staring at him.

“Very well, Sam. I will make sure to do that for you. In fact, I was just about to go on a break to make sure he’s doing okay. Would you like to come up with me? You could give it to him yourself.”

“Oh- thanks,” Sam said, feeling flustered. He glanced up just in time to catch the smirk on his friend’s face, which made him blush harder.

“It’s okay, Sam,” Cas told him at a lower volume. “I have a feeling that he likes you as well.”

Sam’s face felt as if it was on fire. Castiel didn’t say anything else, just took him by the elbow and led him up the stairs to the living area portion.

Gabriel was in a bed with a bowl of soup in his lap and some low-budget Netflix show playing on the television. When the door opened, he looked over at them.

“Samoose?” he called out. “’Zat you?”

“Hi, Gabe,” Sam murmured. “I bought you something.” He handed the candy over, and Gabriel stared down at it.

“So, not only did you give me money, you also gave me _candy_. Marry me,” Gabriel choked out, then collapsed into a coughing fit.

“Maybe later, when you’re not about to start the Black Plague of 2019,” Sam responded fondly. Gabriel made a face at him.

“I’m just fine, right Cassie? I’m just- oh shit.” He reached down for something on the floor and it only took Sam a second to realize that it was a large glass mixing bowl – and another second to realize what was about to happen.

It only took one more second for Gabriel to start throwing up into it. Sam grimaced and said to no one specific, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you around.”

#~+~#

Gabriel was completely recovered five days later, when Sam finally convinced his brother to go into the shop. The blond was manning the counter when Dean entered.

“Hey there, Dean-o. Whaddya need? Pure sugar? Nature’s finest? Romantic advice?”

“Shove it up your ass, Gabe,” Dean said with a note of fondness in his tone. He didn’t love Gabriel, but he’d warmed up to him somewhat after all of Sam’s raving about him.

(His argument against Sam pursuing it was always the same: “He’s eight fucking years older than you, Sammy! You have no idea what he wants from you.” Sam’s reply was consistent across the board as well: “I’m 37 years old, Dean. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions and my own mistakes. You can’t protect me, you can’t shield me, and you can’t hide me from the world anymore.”)

“I need a floral arrangement,” he muttered. Gabriel brightened immensely.

“My brother’s the one with a touch for flowers, so give me just one moment…” he trailed off as he opened the side door and leaned his head into the stock room. “Cassie!” he called, his voice slightly muffled to Dean’s ears. “Your boyfriend needs you to give him some flowers!”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Gabriel, and please stop harassing him,” came Cas’ reply as he exited the hallway. “Oh, _Dean_. Yes, now I understand what you’re saying,” the younger Novak conceded. Dean goggled at him.

“I’ll leave you boys alone,” Gabriel murmured in the most suggestive tone he could muster. Dean rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and pointedly didn’t watch as the blond walked away to help another customer.

(The shop had only been open for three months, but they were getting plenty of patronage. A lot of it was due to Sam and Dean maybe raving about it a little to their own customers while they marked up their bodies with permanent ink.)

“What can I help you with, Dean?” Castiel asked him, polite and formal as always.

“How might someone say, ‘you’re beautiful, you make me happy, and I think I’m falling in love with you’ in flowers?”

Cas hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you have a few options. Amaryllis symbolizes splendid beauty or worth beyond beauty. Calla lilies mean magnificence and beauty. Red chrysanthemums convey love,” he offered.

“Can I see all of these as you describe them?” Dean requested. Cas nodded and pulled out an amaryllis, a calla lily, and a red chrysanthemum.

“Oh, I like the amaryllis, can I get some of that?” As Cas made to wrap a rubber band around a bundle of amaryllis, Dean reached out and stopped his arm. “What about the rest of it?”

“Oh, well, bird of paradise symbolizes joyfulness… here’s one of those,” he murmured, holding it up next to the amaryllis. Dean nodded in acceptance of the choice and Cas grabbed a few more to add to his bouquet. “And then for ‘I’m falling in love with you’, we have a catalog of roses and their color meanings if you’d like.” He pulled out a laminated sheet of paper and placed it on the counter. Dean examined it for a minute, then made his selection.

“Can I have four red roses, one lavender rose, and one blue?”

Cas sighed internally, holding the bouquet a little higher to mask his look of disappointment. _Four red roses – ‘nothing will come between us’. Lavender – ‘love at first sight’. And blue – ‘I can’t have you but I can’t stop thinking about you’._

Whoever Dean was pining for, he was serious about them, and it was decidedly not Castiel. He took a deep breath and made an oath to himself; he would support his newfound friend and stay on the sidelines, and he would not reveal his own growing romantic feelings for the brunet.

He made up the bouquet and handed it to Dean. “Twenty-seven dollars, even. Cash or credit?”

In response, Dean handed over a twenty, a five, and two ones, and took the flowers. “Thank you so much, Cas. Just out of curiosity, how long will these keep for?”

“As long as you keep them in water, they should appear fresh for about a week, but they won’t fully wilt for about two,” Cas replied.

“Okay, thank you,” Dean said again, then gave Cas a shy smile and walked out of the shop.

#~+~#

It took Dean three days to work up the courage he needed to confess to Cas. On the day he decided to do it, he was greeted by a surprising customer in his shop – or, more accurately, two.

“Good mornin’, Winchester!” Gabriel called cheerfully as the door swung open, letting in a draft of cold air and causing the little bell above the door to tinkle. Cas entered just behind him, looking severely out of place with his long, tan trench coat and befuddled expression.

“Yo, Novak!” Dean shouted back, a friendly greeting. Gabriel grinned.

“Where’s my favorite Bigfoot impersonator? I’ve been missing him! He hasn’t been in my shop in like, four days.”

Sam, as if on cue, parted the dark curtains into the back room of the parlor and his face visibly lit up when he saw Cas and Gabe. Virgin mother of Jesus Christ alive, he was so obvious it was a miracle that Gabriel hadn’t figured out how desperately in love with him he was.

“Hey there, Candy Shop!” he yelled good-naturedly. “To what do I owe the Grace of your presence on this fine day?”

‘Grace’ was a little joke with the four of them. Sam had read somewhere that that was what they had called angelic power in Biblical times, and considering that Sam and Dean were _convinced_ that Gabriel and Castiel respectively were only one step down from angels, it seemed only fitting.

“This day isn’t fine, it’s cold as balls,” Gabriel contradicted him. Then, with unabashed glee, he announced, “And Cassie wants a tattoo! I mean, I do too, but I’m primarily here for moral support for my little bro. After all, I’m a brother first and a human after.”

“Oh, the torture,” Sam agreed without an ounce of sincerity, and Dean looked at him curiously. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “You know that you’re my priority and you always have been.”

Gabriel was looking between them as if he were watching the ball at a particularly interesting tennis game. When they finished, there was a strange tension in the air between them, and a thick silence that nobody broke for a hot second.

Then Castiel cleared his throat. He held out a piece of paper towards Dean. “I would like this tattooed in the center of my chest, slightly below my pecs.”

Sam thought Dean was going to choke. The look of complete seriousness on Cas’ face was hilarious enough, but the way Dean’s cheeks went flaming red, further emphasizing his freckles, and how figurative steam started to pour from his ears was purely _glorious_.

He took a couple of deep breaths, then said, “yeah, okay. I think I can manage that.”

When Dean and Cas walked away, Sam turned to the older Novak. “What do you want, then?”

“I want a small pair of wings, right between my shoulder blades. I’d like them to be gold, and I’d like them to be similar to this design, but I have no other specifications.”

“Can I play with color and shading?” Sam asked as he looked down at the picture that Gabriel had just handed him. That was part of what made Sam’s art _Sam’s_; his artistry was all in his ability to combine colors and make something unique.

“Of course you can, Samsquatch!” Gabriel exclaimed. “In fact, I would love that! Surprise me.” He winked, and Sam prided himself on his ability to not blush and to maintain a professional appearance (even though on the inside he was on fire).

“Okay. Take your shirt off, please, and lay facedown right there, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Ooh, Sambo, you know I get all tingly when you take control like that,” Gabriel snarked at him as he complied.

Sam made a face at him, then went to draw up his reference.

“How’s this?” he asked about ten minutes later, holding the paper in such a way that Gabriel could see it. Dean asked Cas the same thing at the same moment, and both Novak boys chuckled.

“Perfect,” Gabriel replied.

“Far better than I expected,” Castiel agreed.

“Oof, Cas. Going straight for the jugular, won’t even let a man defend himself,” Dean muttered, but he was smiling.

Cas’ tattoo was an intricate rose, mid-bloom, with some characters in a foreign language in the center. He reported that it was Enochian – the ancient angelic language of ye olden Biblical times – for ‘angel’. He was also forced to admit that he was far more of a Bibliophile than he’d let on when they first met.

(Dean had laughed, even though Cas hadn’t made a joke, and Sam and Gabe had shared a secretive smile, because they both knew how whipped Dean was.)

It took Sam about an hour to finish Gabriel’s tattoo (it ended up being a bold golden outline with a white-silver ombre to skin shade inside), and he got Gabriel bandaged up with relatively little effort, but it took Dean almost two to finish up with Cas because of all the detail work he had to do.

Once he was done, before the boys left, Dean took a deep, preparatory breath, and asked, “Cas? Can we talk in private for a minute?”

The dark-haired boy inclined his head politely, and they took their leave of Sam and Gabriel.

Sam breathed a laugh as soon as Cas disappeared behind the curtain. “What’s funny?” Gabriel asked him. Sam flopped into a plush blue waiting chair, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back.

“I think you know. I’m not exactly subtle. In fact, I haven’t even been _trying_ to be. I was waiting for you to say something, but now I’ve seen you shirtless and you haven’t, so I guess it’ll be me.”

“What are you talking about, Samaroo?”

Sam exhaled exasperatedly. “Gabriel, I am _desperately_ attracted to you. I’d even go so far as to say that I’ve fallen in love with you these past three months.”

Gabriel’s jaw hung open so wide Sam could’ve probably fit his fist into it. (Oh, how he wished he hadn’t thought of that. Now he was entertaining a lot of filthy fantasies that he really shouldn’t have in his head right now.) “You’re serious?”

“_Yes_!”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely, you oblivious idiot!”

So he did.

#~+~#

“What’s going on, Dean?” Cas inquired once they were alone in the back room. Dean sighed, reaching behind himself for the thin blue vase that he had chosen specifically because it matched Castiel’s eyes. He very, very slowly pulled it out from behind him.

“You know what this means, I asked you to help me with the message I was trying to send.” Cas’ gorgeous blue eyes were blown wide and his pupils were dilated with disbelief. “It was for you, Cas. I told you that day – subtly, I know, but I still told you – that I was falling in love with you, and, well… I’m not falling anymore. Castiel Novak, I am haplessly, helplessly, hopelessly in love with you.”

“Are you really?” he murmured, and Dean nodded earnestly. “I love you, Dean. I love you too,” Dean’s angel blubbered, and Dean leaned forward to catch his lips to cut him off.

The kiss was soft and chaste, but it wasn’t rushed; it was like a promise of many, many more to come.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean murmured before kissing Cas again, “you make me happy – god, _so_ happy-” another kiss “-and I’m in love with you.” He kissed the raven-haired boy once more before he pulled away.

Then Cas did something spectacular. He pulled the blue rose from the vase and he snapped its stem.

“What was that for?” Dean whispered incredulously.

“The blue rose means, ‘I can’t have you, but I can’t stop thinking about you’. You can have me, Dean, you can always have me. In every lifetime, in every version of reality, you can always have me, so the blue rose is useless.”

Just for that, Dean had to kiss him again.

#~+~#

“Okay, so do you guys know who Gabriel is?” Sam asked as he joined his friends at their weekly group coffee meet. He slung his messenger bag over the back of the chair and gave his boyfriend a quick peck before he threw himself into the chair. Dean gave him a sideways look.

“Uh… your boyfriend? Owner of the candy shop down the street from our place? Is this a trick question?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “_Gabriel_ was the Messenger of God. Now, of course Castiel was a very important angel in their own right, but dude. I scored myself an archangel! Suck on that, Dean!”

He was grinning like a child who’d just been told they could have ice cream for breakfast. Dean scoffed, pretend-offended, and kissed his own boyfriend just for show.

“Their?” Gabe inquired amusedly. Sam turned his infectious grin on the blond.

“Yeah, so I’ve been doing all kinds of research on angels and apparently none of them actually had genders. They were all these, like… genderless blobs made up of the fabric of the universe. They’re essentially just multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. It’s pretty cool. But anyway I’ve been using gender-nonspecific pronouns for them in my head because it’s easier, and considering they don’t have genders and we’re trying to burn the patriarchy, assuming that they’re all male is kind of inaccurate and offensive, don’t you think?”

Dean and Gabriel both stared at him in awed disbelief, but Castiel just nodded along. “Exactly, Sam. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Holy,” Dean began.

“Shit,” Gabriel finished for him.

Sam rolled his eyes and Gabe snaked an arm around his boyfriend’s waist and pulled him into his side. “I love you, Samster.”

“I love you too,” Sam murmured back.

Cas pointedly looked away and Dean made a face.

#~+~#

_Two years later…_

“Oh, my god!” Sam was screaming. Dean was slumped in one of the blue chairs in the parlor, trying to get a couple more minutes of sleep before he had to start work hungover at this ungodly hour. “Tell me you’re joking.” When Dean didn’t answer him, he smacked him on the knee. “You absolute jerk, tell me that this isn’t serious!”

“Bitch, why don’t you shut up and let me sleep?”

“Either you were so hilariously wasted last night that all of the drunk texts you sent me were complete fiction _or_ it actually happened and now you’re miserable about it. Which is it?” Sam demanded.

“God, why are you so fucking pushy before you’ve had coffee?” Dean groaned. Then he sat up straight. “Wait, I drunk texted you? Shit, where’s my phone?”

Sam sighed and handed over his own.

**From: Dean (22:06)** hey sammy guess wat  
**From: Dean (22:08)** Cas inst  
**From: Dean (22:09)** Cas isnt  
**From: Dean (22:13)** Cas isn’t my boyfriend anymore  
**From: Dean (22:15)** hahs  
**From: Dean (22:20)** samy?

Dean sighed with relief. “Oh, just that.”

“_‘Just that’_?” Sam repeated incredulously. “You broke up with Cas and you’re saying it was ‘just that’?”

“No, Sammy, we didn’t break up.”

“You-you didn’t? Then what’s that about?”

Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I really need like four shots of espresso, can we go get Starbucks, or-” He started to stand up but Sam pushed him back down by the head.

“No fucking way, asshole, you are not leaving this chair until you tell me what you mean by that.”

“Cas didn’t break up with me. He proposed.” Sam’s jaw dropped. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore. He’s my fiancé.”

“That’s fantastic, man!”

“Yes,” Dean agreed. “Yes it is. And now he and I can tell everyone at _your_ wedding that your best man and Gabe’s best man are engaged.”

Sam snorted. “That’ll go over well. Imagine what Dad would say!”

“Dad’s dead, Sam. And he was a homophobic douchebag, and it doesn’t serve our mental health to think about what his opinions on our lifestyle choices would be. You remember who told me that? _You did_.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I know.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m gonna call Gabriel, see if he and Cas want to meet for coffee. You weren’t wrong about four shots of espresso.”

Dean grinned at his stupid, annoying baby brother and his stupid, annoying, not-at-all-smooth subject change.

This was okay. This was good. Sammy was engaged to Gabe, he was engaged to Cas, and they both finally had a shot at a happy ending. A happy ending that neither of them had thought they’d ever get.

“Let’s go, Sam,” Dean said.

_Let’s go. Let’s get on with our lives. Let’s leave uncomfortable subjects like Dad behind us._

_Let’s go be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote over 5k of pure fluff in a day.
> 
> I'm amazing.
> 
> Love,  
-Sil


End file.
